


The Ouran Paint Monster

by IrisLikesOCs



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Artists, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Funny, Gen, LGBTQ Female Character, Male-Female Friendship, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisLikesOCs/pseuds/IrisLikesOCs
Summary: "Long ago a terror entered the school. No one knows how or where from, but it came. It started in middle school… slowly at first. Someone would find the occasional puddle of paint here and there. But then, it wasn't long until the creature made itself seen." It is the sworn duty of the Host Club to help their fellow students. Their school Paint Monster is no exception. OC





	1. Introducing the Ouran Paint Monster!

"We had a great time, Haruhi-kun!"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow!"

Haruhi shot a wide smile at her groupies.

"I look forward to it." She bowed, managing to usher the girls out. As soon as the door shut behind her, she let out a tired sigh, marking the end to another long day. Now it was time for the Host Club to clean up and go home. Haruhi couldn't wait – she knew there was a large bowl of chicken curry in the fridge with her name on it. It seemed Tamaki had other plans, however.

"Would my darling daughter like to have dinner at my house this evening? I've had a truckload of fancy tuna delivered  _specially_  for you." He slung an arm across her shoulder, head swelling from the pink hearts floating around them.

"No thanks, senpai," she declined easily. Tamaki deflated. "I've got tons of homework tonight."

Before he could press any further, the Hitachiin twins appeared beneath his arm, eyes glowing devilishly.

"Boss, did you say  _dinner_?"

"We're invited right?"

"Wha- No. II-"

"Tama-chan's having a  _party_?" Honey-senpai's ears perked up as he approached them. He was clutching Usa-chan in one hand and Mori-senpai's hand in the other. Tamaki recoiled sheepishly.

"No, Honey-senpai, I'm not having a-"

Honey wasn't listening. He'd disappeared into a cream and jelly filled daydream. Dropping everything, he lunged at Tamaki's legs. The sheer force of it caused his lowerclassman to topple to the ground, swaying violently.

"Will there be cake? Can we have cake? I want vanilla and jelly cake, and strawberry shortcake, and chocolate, black forest -"

Seeing an opportunity to torment their leader further, the twins jumped on him, grabbing Tamaki's shoulders and shaking him harder.

"Can we come too, Boss?"

"Let's have a barbeque!"

"Can we hire a bouncy castle?"

"No, better yet - LET'S HAVE A POOL PARTY!"

"Mommy! Haruhi! HELP!"

With Tamaki distracted, Haruhi had managed to slip out of Music Room #3. Kyoya was already making his way down the stairs.

"Senpai, where are you going?"

"I have Host Club business downstairs in the art studio. I'll be back in a bit."

Before she could question him further, she was cut off by the twins, who'd grown bored of their play-fight with Tamaki.

"Oooh! You're going to see Paint Monster?"

"Paint Monster?" Haruhi blinked, provoking a cacophony of exasperated groans.

"You've been at this school for so long and you don't know who Paint Monster is?" Hikaru scolded.

"C'mon, we'll tell you about it on the way down."

"Haruhi! Wait for  _me_!" Tamaki cried, struggling against the weight of Honey on his legs. In his desperation, he clawed his way to the door, only for it to be slammed in his face. The last thing he saw were those evil Hitachiin grins. Tamaki balled his hand up in a fist, pounding the ground. He threw his head up to the ceiling, tears sparkling down his face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

On the other side of the door, Haruhi, Hikaru, Kaoru and Kyoya calmly made their way to the art studio, while the twins enlightened her on the legend of the Ouran Paint Monster.

"A long time ago, almost a  _whole_  year before the Host Club had been founded-"

"So, three years ag-."

"Don't interrupt," Hikaru snapped. "Anyway, a long time ago a terror entered the school. No one knows how or where from, but it came. It started in middle school… slowly at first. Someone would find the occasional puddle of paint here and there. But then…  _things_  started to go missing."

"What kind of things?"

"The school's art supplies mostly," Kyoya interjected. "Their supply closet was near empty for most of the semester. The academy's budgeting team hadn't seen such a sharp increase in demand from the Art department in almost thirty years."

"You too, senpai?" Haruhi sighed. "How much of this story is even accurate?"

"About 5 per cent. And that's only due to my part."

The girl rolled her eyes, waving her hand.

"Okay… You may continue."

"Thank you," Kaoru took over. "By that point, there were only rumours of where those supplies were going... Though no one knew the truth. But then, it wasn't long until the creature made itself seen. First, it appeared in the hall to some sad sap in his first year. He said it had come to punish him for skipping Gym that day. Next, it appeared in the girl's bathroom, hiding in a cubicle waiting to jump out at its next victims. There were plenty of other accounts, each with a description of the Monster more terrifying than the last. Soon though, its sightings became exclusive to the Art rooms."

"Well, what does it look like?"

"Terrifying.  _I've_ seen it with my own eyes. Its hair stands on end so that you can't see its face. It has skin the colour of printer paper, and the shortest stubbiest nails you've ever seen. The whole of it is covered in spatter. Some say it's just red paint. But the rest of us know better. And so, the monster roams, oozing paint along the corridors, waiting to pounce at all those who cross it or dare not believe."

Kaoru finished his tale, bringing up a flashlight out thin air and directing an ominous light up his face. They'd now reached the school's main art studio. It was an impressive room with high ceilings, massive windows and student paintings covering the walls. The place was deserted hold for one pupil at the furthest corner of the room. She had her back turned to them, painting furiously and ignoring the spatter that covered her head to toe.

Haruhi leaned to the side to get a better look at the canvas, dodging the spray of paint with the girl's every stroke. It was beautiful – a realistic depiction of a ship caught in a storm.

"That's amazing," she said aloud. She received no response from the girl. It was then that Haruhi noticed the girl had earphones in, blasting what sounded like  _Winter_  of Vivaldi's  _Four Seasons_. Haruhi looked to Kaoru.

"You're telling me  _she's_ Paint Monster?" She should have known the twins got carried away with the story again.

"We caught her in Stage 3," Hikaru deduced as her wild hair bobbed up and down, tongue sticking out from her paint-stained mouth in concentration.

"The half-way point before going Paint Monster," Kaoru clarified.

"You see," Hikaru continued, yanking on a newly-appeared rope and pulling down a screen. His brother dimmed the lights and sat Haruhi down as the film began to roll. Hikaru now donned a fake handlebar moustache and a wire-rimmed pince-nez. He pointed to the first of the five drawings on the screen with a long rod, the title  _P-Mon Cycle_  blinking at the top of the screen.

"This is Stage One. This is the rarest point to catch P-Mon. From this stage, it is difficult to even tell it apart from the average cute girl. As you can see, paint spatter levels are at all-time lows, the nails are clean and average hair density is average."

He flicked the pointer rod.

"Stage Two. Less rare though still uncommon. Combined, I estimate these two stages last only three days at most. The girl's features are still not obscured; though notice the look in the eyes exposing its innate sense of crazy. We've dubbed it the  _crazy genius spark._ Witnessing this stage means you witness the birth of a new idea for a project. Nails remain clean, though fingertips are now covered in lead. Hair density levels up by 10 to 15 per cent."

"I can't believe you actually went through the trouble to write, learn and prepare this presentation," Haruhi groaned.

"SHHH! Stage  _Three_. The stage we're observing right now. The paint spatter levels have risen by almost 50 per cent, while levels of irritability are only now becoming apparent. The face is yet to be obscured but it's getting there. Nails are filthy. Uniform - less yellow. The  _crazy genius spark_  has widened the eye a little more. That, and sleep deprivation. Hair density now up by 40 per cent."

"Guys, this is unnecessary and stupid," Haruhi stopped paying attention the moment the screen had come down though now she'd grown tired of their antics. Kaoru grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her back down in her seat.

"Okay, okay. I promise I'm almost done. Stage Four. Moderately irritable. Uniform is hardly yellow. The  _crazy genius spark_ has caused the eyes to widen to twice their size. Bangs now obscure them, however. The smell of paint is tolerable though unpleasant. Paint spatter coverage at 80 per cent while hair density is up by 70."

He now pointed the stick triumphantly at the final image: a multi-coloured scribble paired with a mass of hair.

"And finally,  _behold!_  The Paint Monster! The glorious amalgamation of sleep deprivation, raw talent and natural crazy. All speaking or reasoning with it is pointless and the stench of paint is all but totally unbearable. Irritability levels are at their maximum capacity. Hair density levels are off the charts. No, seriously. Her hair literally broke the scale we were using to measure!"

With the presentation over and the screen stowed back to where it came from, Kyoya leaned forward and gently tapped Paint Monster on the shoulder, trying his best not to get covered in paint spatter. Upon noticing them, she took her earphones out with a friendly smile.

"Hey, guys!"

"Haruhi, this is Ryo Hisakawa from Class 2-B," Kyoya said.

Ryo gave her a cheery wave.

"It's so great to formally meet you, Haruhi-kun!"

"Formally? Did you know me before today, Hisakawa-san?"

"Well of course! Who do you think's been taking all those photos of you these past months?"

Haruhi was dumbstruck. Ryo retreated to the laptop at the back of the room, the screen of which announced a successful file transfer. She beckoned the four closer as she brought up said photos on the computer.

The host's dumbfounded expression turned more annoyed with every new action shot of her hosting. She lost it when the unfortunately infamous photo of her first kiss with Kanako Kasugazaki filled the screen.

"You got her to follow me around and take photos?!"

"Not just you. She takes pictures of all of us," Kyoya replied, calm as ever though his amused smirk didn't go unmissed.

"How have you never noticed her, Haruhi?"

"Wow. You're really inattentive."

Amidst the twins teasing and Haruhi's growing anger, Ryo and Kyoya engaged in their usual small talk.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Ootori-kun." She pulled the USB drive from the laptop port and handed it to him. "Here you go, all the completed digital prints for this week. I'll have the physical prints finished by Thursday at the latest."

"Not at all, Hisakawa. Thank you," He pocketed the drive, before turning to her work in progress. "So, is this  _another_  painting inspired by Hanako Shibasaki?"

"You have a good eye," she nodded. "I adore her. I hope to be as good as her someday."

"I don't doubt it."

Ryo grinned, before grabbing Haruhi, who was still arguing, by the arm.

"C'mon, I'll give you a tour of the place. You'll get to see the other Host Club merch we've been working on."

Ryo beckoned them to follow her into the supply closet. There she slid a few boxes to the side, to reveal a secret door frame in the wall. She knocked and a muffled murmur of "Password?" echoed through. She muttered unrecognizable jibberish back, successfully gaining herself and her guests entry. She spread her arms out with a proud grin.

"Welcome to the first official HQ of Hisakawa Studios, privately and generously co-funded by the Ootori Kyoya Personal Trust."

"Impressive," said the twins as Haruhi's eyes widened in horror.

An accurate descriptor for this studio would have been "sweatshop-esque". Three long tables formed make-shift production lines, seats filled with tired looking art students who were tracing, inking and lettering over and over again. Some stood at the end of each table, ready to systematically place the new page into the photocopier and scan it into the computer for mass-reproduction. Ryo took Haruhi's stupefied silence for one of admiration. She continued her studio tour.

"Each line here is dedicated to creating a different product. This line, for example, is for the fanzine and this one is for photo manipulation."

"Hisakawa sketches and paints most of the commissions herself," Kyoya continued, sensing Haruhi's unease with the atmosphere. "It's just that she needs help with the more menial tasks that help with mass-production. Besides, they only work like this once a week and have all volunteered to be a part of this."

Haruhi felt slightly better knowing this, especially after she noticed the tired art students fluttering their eyelashes at the host club members. She shook her head, defeated.

"So, Hisakawa-san, what's this line for?"

"Ah, it's relatively new. It's for the doujinshi."

"Doujinshi?"

"Comic book fanfiction," she explained, picking up a finished copy. A drawing of a shirtless, watery-eyed Mori-senpai graced the cover. "A team of volunteer writers from the Creative Writing and Literature Society send me a script, I pencil it all out, and then pass it on to the inkers and scanners."

Kyoya nodded, adding:

"Yes. Doujinshi was a popular request made possible only after the involvement of-"

Suddenly, a flash of lighting and the clanking of metal gears filled the room. A spinning platform erupted from the ground, a cackling brunette with a bow standing atop it.

"Haw, haw, haw." As soon as her platform came to a halt, Renge hopped down and snatched the doujinshi from Ryo's hand. The room fell silent as she flipped through it, awaiting her final verdict.

"This scene needs more  _angst_. I want more tears in Mori-senpai's eyes. It is after all his long lost evil older brother who stole Honey-senpai's heart. And  _here_ , I want more ABS. Just more definition and more of them in general!"

"Maybe I should draw abs on  _top_  of abs?" Ryo muttered, highly underestimating Renge's sense of hearing.

"YES!" The girl squealed in approval. "See? I knew you'd appreciate my input. If you take my advice, the host club's doujinshi should be satisfactory."

* * *

Some moments later, they were back in the art studio. Ryo'd started to pack up, shoving a sketchbook in her backpack.

"Hey, P-Mon, the Host Club's going round Boss' place for dinner. You wanna join?" Kaoru said, helping put the cleaned paintbrushes back in their place.

"Nah, it's alright. I have somewhere to be," she said, hauling her unzipped backpack over her shoulder.

"What could possibly be better than dinner with  _us_?" Hikaru asked, both twins cupping their faces and smirking.

"Ryo, hurry up!"

A new voice came from the hall. The gang looked up to see Minori Kaneko, a tall, athletic girl from class 2-B, standing in the doorway. She flipped her long black hair impatiently though not meanly.

"I finished practice twenty minutes ago and we better hurry if we wanna make the movie on time," she laughed, unwittingly making Ryo blush.

"I'm coming!" she scrambled to zip up her backpack on her shoulder. In her haste she accidentally tipped it, causing half its contents to spill out on the ground. Ryo swore under her breath. As she bent down to pick up her stuff, more pens and notebooks toppled out. It was a mess. With an exasperated groan, Ryo gathered it all up in her arms instead.

"Bye, guys!" she blurted, jogging lightly out the door to join her friend.

Haruhi turned to Hikaru, smiling knowingly.

"I don't think we're her type."

* * *

**A/N: Tada! Few things to know about this fanfic: I know where I'm going with it, I hope to update regularly and I hope you like it. It should fit quite snugly in the anime series without detracting anything from the canon anime storyline. My goal is to write a "Lost Episode" sort of fanfic. Just another mission for the Host Club.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, favourite, follow and review!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club**


	2. P-Mon Origins!

Thursday of that week came swiftly. Music Room #3 was bustling as the Host Club set up for their  _Knights of the Round Table_ theme.

Haruhi squirmed in her armour, feeling the beads of sweat form on her brow. Grabbing at the wall, she attempted to walk in it, creaking and clanking horribly. She wasn't the only one having trouble.

It was near impossible to find anything big enough to fit Mori-senpai, who currently looked very short of breath in his armour. Honestly, the only one who looked like he was having a good time was – no surprises - Tamaki in his King Arthur garb. Kyoya was seated at one of the tables, scribbling in his notebook, having refused to wear his helmet, regardless of the number of 'But,  _Mommy!'s_  it received.

Suddenly, a foreign odour hit Haruhi's nose. It seemed the others had smelled it too as it was enough to cut the Hitachiin brothers' sword fight short. She sniffed the air again, reflexively scrunching her face. What was that? A gas leak? No. She snapped her fingers.  _Paint_.

A few moments later, Ryo appeared in the doorway. Or something that vaguely looked like her? Haruhi couldn't believe she was actually grateful she'd received a preparatory slideshow on this. From what she could tell, Hisakawa was on Stage 5.

Typically, Ryo wore the school's standard yellow dress; she did today, though it was covered in so many multi-coloured stains, you couldn't even tell the paint apart from the material. True to Hikaru's words, her face was obscured with a mass of brown, bushy hair. For the tiny increments of time when the face  _was_  visible, Haruhi saw huge, dark bags under her eyes. She was pushing a wheelbarrow of completed Host Club merchandise into the room.

Honey-senpai was the first to greet her with the usual excited squeals of "Ryo-chan!" He hopped into the wheelbarrow, wading through the fanzines, paintings and photos albums. Tamaki followed suit.

"Ryo-hime! How lovely of you to grace us with your presence!" His eyes shone as he produced a rose from thin air. But to his dismay, she raised her palm and pushed his face away.

"Please don't patronise me, Suoh," she grunted.

_Irritability levels are at their maximum capacity._

"P-Mon is immune to Boss' charm," the Hitachiin's pointed out.

"No! Tell me it's not true, Ryo-hime!" Tamaki ever the drama queen, pressed his hands to his chest as though taking a knife to the heart. Ryo's eye roll went missed through her mass of hair.

"I've drawn him so many times, he looks average to me," she said, wheeling the barrow to the end of the room, Honey-senpai still giggling inside it. Her comment twisted the blade in Tamaki's heart.

"That's a bit harsh, P-Mon," Hikaru said, watching their 'King Arthur' writhing in agony on the floor.

"Hey, you didn't have to paint a 10 by 10 meter of  _just_  his face." She began to unpack, picking up Honey and placing him on the ground with a stack of Mori-themed doujinshis.

"And what's wrong with that?" Tamaki demanded.

In response, Hikaru and Kaoru each placed a consoling hand on her shoulders.

"We're sorry. That sounds awful."

Tamaki flew into a rage, lunging at the twins and in a bid to finish where they left off the day before... and the day before that and the day before that. Somewhere in the tangle of limbs, a fingernail caught flesh.

"AHH!" Clutching his face, Tamaki stumbled to the mirror. He took away his palm to reveal a tiny red line on his jaw. "Hideous! Don't look at me!"

Armour clanking, he flung himself into a corner into a miserable huddle - faced away from a cruel, judgemental world.

"Boss, you okay?"

"No. How can I call myself a host with this horrific, disfiguring scar?! I can't even charm Ryo-hime. What's the point of me being here anymore?!"

Ryo, among the spectators, sighed, deciding to make amends. She picked out one of the smaller picture frames, taking care not to show the others the picture inside.

"Here. As you requested."

Hesitant this was some trick, he didn't turn around at first. She nudged his shoulder with it, coaxing his head around to see what she was holding. His tears dried instantly.

"You finished it already?!"

He grabbed it, examining the picture in the frame, a dopey grin on his face.

"What is it, M'lord?" The twins appeared behind him to take a look. He immediately covered it up by pressing the frame to his chest.

"Nothing!" he sprinted back to his corner, stealthily taking a very obvious peek.

"Like it?" Ryo asked.

"I LOVE IT!" Tamaki cried, pirouetting around the room. The floating pink hearts were back, dancing along with him. "It's adorable! Thank you!"

He danced to Ryo's side, sweeping her up into a very tight embrace and unwittingly constricting her arms to her sides.

"Hugging is definitely within _my_ comfort zone" came Ryo's muffled voice, as her feet dangled off the floor.

If Tamaki heard her, then he chose to feign ignorance, spinning around happily. His gay demeanour rendered him distracted enough for Hikaru to jump up and snatch the picture frame from his hand.

"No, give it back!"

"Uhh, Boss? What's this?" 

* * *

_Earlier that month..._

Tamaki found himself sat opposite Ryo's desk. This was one of those times in the week where she took requests from the student body. They commissioned her for loads of drawings, not just those of the Host Club. He'd stopped himself from coming to her for ages, embarrassed to make his own request. Eventually, however, his desire to have his dream realised was too much to bear. Ryo cleared her throat, making a note of his description.

"Suoh-kun, this is pretty unusual… So, just to clarify, you would like a drawing of Haruhi-kun."

Tamaki nodded fervently, trying his best not to go an even deeper shade of red.

"But… in a dress, am I right?"

* * *

"It's not what it looks like!" Tamaki now yelled.

"You asked P-Mon to draw Haruhi in a dress."

"No!"

"I mean that  _is_  what you did…" Ryo interjected. He glared at her.

"Who's side are you on?!"

Haruhi stopped feeling uncomfortable by Tamaki's displays of affection - in all their weirdness - a long time ago. She narrowed her eyes, watching the usual chaos unfold in front of her, deep in thought.

"Something on your mind, Haruhi?" Kyoya came up beside her.

"I don't get it."

"Tamaki paid Ryo money in exchange for a portrait of you in a dress."

"Senpai, you know that's not what I meant."

"You're curious about Hisakawa?"

"You've got contacts in pretty much every industry imaginable right? And I'm not saying Hisakawa-san's work isn't impressive but, why would you pick her instead of a professional?"

"Hisakawa's services are just as good as any professional for a fraction of the price. Waiting longer for production is only a minor drawback in light of the savings we make. Likewise, collaborating with other club's around school keeps us in good graces with other students as well as the board of governors. It shows solidarity and 'school spirit', you know?"

"I guess so… Is that really it?"

"Of course," he lied smoothly.

* * *

_A long time (but not quite three years) ago..._

Kyoya couldn't believe it. How did that idiot manage to rope him into this? It wasn't a question about whether or not he'd be able to get his work done on time. It was obvious he could, even with his new responsibilities. Even so, he didn't ever once stop questioning what he was actually doing, starting this Host Club with Suoh. He scribbled in his notebook, irritated, working out their Club's budgeting plan. They still had to find a room as well as other hosts. He'd be damned if he had to host alone with Tamaki.

"Wow. Your hair is so bushy."

He looked up from his calculations. A group of kids in his year were standing on the other end of the courtyard. Kyoya didn't move because he'd picked a good spot where he could sit, unnoticed and uninterrupted. He was free to observe though.

"Can you get a brush through it?"

"Bet she can't."

The girl in question did indeed have a messy mop of brown hair. Kyoya recognized her as Ryo Hisakawa, the new girl who'd transferred to the Ouran middle school halfway through the year. Her parents were successful investment bankers though nouveau riche at best. Not much of a pedigree there. Still, he'd already introduced himself to her in the event that their business gains more recognition. She didn't seem too bothered by him though. No matter, the feeling was mutual. They seemed to have an understanding that being civil was perfectly fine – there was no point in pretending to be friends when you weren't.

"Your dress is filthy, is that paint?"

"Ewww, I bet she doesn't wash."

"Ahah, look! Did we hurt Paint Monster's feelings?"

"Paint Monster, you gonna cry?"

For a split second, it looked like she would. A hurt look flickered over her face. Kyoya wondered if anyone would butt in, 'save the day' so to speak. He wasn't. Why get involved for her? But then she did something that made the bullies stop laughing. She gave a brilliant smile and laughed along too.

"Paint Monster, that's a good one! Can I use that?"

Any need for a rescuer was diminished. Kyoya snapped his notebook shut with an intrigued hum. That was new. Maybe he didn't give his fellow students enough credit. Or maybe he was just losing his touch. First, he was wrong about Suoh. Now about this too?

He smirked to himself. Nah.

Kyoya's surprises didn't end in middle school, however. A year on at Ouran High, the Host Club became far more successful than he could have ever cared to admit. Still, it was a growing business. And like any business, Kyoya acknowledged, it had to spread into other media. That was why he was currently looking for someone to rope into creating Host Club merchandise. He had a few contenders, he'd even considered using his family's connections in the movie industry to find a photographer. That was a wild goose chase that only resulted in a snooty middle-aged man with an old camera, a set of smudged photos and a bill saying he was worth three times more than he actually was.

No, this new photographer had to be close by. Someone he could monitor regularly. This led him to spending the last hour profiling Academy students on the school database. Out of all the contenders, one stuck out like a sore thumb.

Ryo Hisakawa from Class 1-B. He skimmed through her grades. Fairly average in sciences, languages and humanities. For the lessons she shows up to, her PE grades were abysmal. Third in the year for Math though, a trait developed from her parents no doubt. He remembered she'd beaten him in the Math summer exam the year before. He scrolled down, finding what he was looking for. She was very skilled in fine arts and, naturally, was top of her class. He'd seen her work dotted around school. Not only was it impressive but the sheer volume of it proved she was a hard worker. Guaranteed, she wouldn't be lazy and procrastinate.

The only setback would be her busy schedule. A member of the Ouran Art Society, she was also a photographer for the Yearbook Committee as well as a regular on the Mathematics Team. Would she want to be the Host Club's official artist and photographer too? They'd have to make it worthwhile for her. Or at worst, con - no -  _charm_  her into it. Maybe if Tamaki worked his magic well enough she'd do it for free. He shook his head – it won't work. Suoh would never go for it, he's too honest. Idiot.

Kyoya, on the other hand, never really considered himself an altruist. It didn't really bother him too much how this girl came to work with the Host Club, so long as she did it. That being said, he did have an ulterior motive for it being her above the rest. He'd read not too long ago the Hisakawa family had struck gold. In the year that he'd known her, her parents had been enjoying their business' exponentially growing success. Sooner or later, Kyoya's father would've told him to befriend her anyway. May as well keep her close and happy now.

That's why splitting the profits seemed like the only viable thing to do. Not that she needed the pocket money. No one really did at this school. The girl would get free publicity on top of decent pay for her troubles. He scrolled through her possible university choices. Top schools for economics and business management in the US, UK and Japan. Fairly typical for Ouran. His cursor stopped on a name that seemed the odd one out. Royal University College of Art. Interesting. Of course, she'd be free to use all the work she'd done for them in her own portfolio. She must be compiling one to get into RUCA.

The warning bell went for next period, though Kyoya was already packing up. It was settled. He'd tell Tamaki about his findings and they'll go talk to the Paint Monster together.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. Feel free to favourite, follow and review!**


	3. P-Mon Origins: The Other Flashback Chapter!

_Still a long time (but not quite a couple of years) ago..._

Minori Kaneko twirled a black lock of hair around her finger. It was a nervous tick, according to Ryo. Minori wondered if her friend ever considered she might be the root of her nerves. She was sitting in French, mind completely blanking in the face of irregular verbs. Her eyes instead were looking up at the clock above the board.

Twenty minutes late, Ryo.

Normally, this wouldn't have been a big deal. Ryo was late to everything; it was so common that it would be weird if she was punctual for once. The main problem was today's class was taught by one of the stricter teachers at Ouran, acting substitute for the sweet and inattentive old lady who usually took them. The kind who didn't care who your parents were or if you were having 'girl problems' during a PE lesson. So yeah, a hell of a good teacher though lenient as steel. Ryo had been late in front of this teacher before. And the last time was practically a bloodbath. She'd been sentenced to two weekend detentions and threatened with suspension if she was ever late again. Naturally, she was late for the very next lesson, and the one after that... and the one after that. Ryo Hisakawa didn't fear suspension because what were the odds she'd get this particular teacher again?

The very same Ryo peering in from the doorway. Minori gestured to the teacher with her eyes.

Don't come in, you moron.

It was already a miracle the teacher forgot to take attendance today. All Ryo had to do was not push her luck. It took all Minori's strength to contain her exasperated groan when Ryo, completely ignoring her, slipped into the room.

The teacher's back was to the class, so she made to crawl as inconspicuously as possible to her seat.

Lucky idiot.

Minori never understood how she could be so laissez-faire about these things. Ryo sat up in her seat, pen in hand and a smug grin plastered on her face. She was safe. 

"Where were you?" Minori mouthed.

Ryo mouthed back something like "Got carried away." As per, she was covered in fresh paint. She probably couldn't hear the bell because she was blasting music in her ears again. Minori rolled her eyes. The next few minutes of the lesson went off without a hitch. Ryo had even managed to draw an unflattering likeness of their teacher in her book. She flashed the doodle at Minori who burst into a silent fit of giggles. She couldn't hold back and accidentally let out a loud snort. The whole class fell silent.

"Hisakawa."

"Yes, ma'am," Ryo piped up nonchalantly at her squinting teacher.

"Have you been in here the whole lesson?"

A pause.

"Yes, ma'am, I have."

The woman glared behind thick-framed glasses.

"I don't believe you," she declared. "Bring me your book. I'd like to see the notes you made today."

Danger. Danger. Danger.

Ryo shot Minori a look. Her friend peered back apologetically with the best "It was nice knowing you" face she could muster.

"Hisakawa, I asked you to hand me your book."

She took her time getting up, lifting the book and closing it carefully. She walked down the rows of desks slowly, turning over in her head how she could get out of this. She had to after all. Her parents would kill her if she got suspended.

There was a knock at the door and the whole world came to a halt. When it opened, it's creak sounded like music to her desperate ears; it was like the pearly gates of heaven were opening just for her. A miracle. Someone was standing at the door. A tall, slender figure with a mop of coiffed blonde hair. An angel?

The stranger stepped in, out of the light. And Ryo's heart dropped. This was no miracle. No angel had come to aid her. At best they had only prolonged the wait to her inevitable ruin.

It was Tamaki Suoh, one of the guys who'd come in from the middle school. Kyoya Ootori from class 1- A followed in behind him.

"Sorry for the intrusion, professor," Tamaki smiled sweetly, making the teacher blush. "Could we borrow a Miss Ryo Hisakawa, please? It's quite urgent."

An audible gasp was heard across the classroom. Could it be? Was she actually going to get out of this?

The woman composed herself, though her cheeks were still pink. "Absolutely no-"

"Professor," Suoh leaned in, flipping his bangs off his face. "Did I mention your new hairstyle really brings out that lovely green in your eyes?"

The class watched in a mixture of disgust and awe as their sub giggled, glasses steaming up . Flustered, she patted her beehive hair in place, before frowning at Ryo.

"Oh, go on. Hisakawa, I'll deal with you later. Pack up and leave."

Ryo watched Minori's jaw drop as she escaped punishment once again. She would have laughed if she wasn't equally dumbfounded by the hosts' sudden appearance. She flung her books and pencil case into her backpack, mouthing "Talk to you later". She then followed the two out of the classroom, leaving Minori smirking and shaking her head after her.

Lucky Idiot.

* * *

They walked down the hallway until they were well out of earshot of anyone. Ryo wondered what the Host Club founders wanted from her. As far as she knew they'd barely spoken for the entirety of her high school career. Now, they stood before her, smiling like they'd been friends forever. Ootori spoke first.

"Sorry for dragging you out of your lesson, Hisakawa-san. This is Tamaki Suoh and I'm Kyoya Ootori. We've met before."

"I know who you are," she muttered. "What do you want?"

And thus Pandora's Box was opened anew. As soon as Tamaki started talking, it seemed he would never stop. Telling her of their plans for the Host Club's future, how they needed an official artist and photographer, how they wanted it to be her, how it was Kyoya's idea, how as soon as he heard, Tamaki couldn't wait until the end of the school day, how he had to ask her immediately, and this went on and on. It was hard to follow, to say the least. It wouldn't have been inaccurate to say that she zoned out once or twice throughout his ramblings. But she got the gist of it, she figured. Once he had finished, silence fell as they awaited Ryo's response. She was hesitant at first.

"It sounds cool, guys. It really does… But I don't know if I'll have the time to work on this.

"Obviously you'll be compensated for your troubles," Kyoya added.

"Yeah… But the money's not really an issue. I have so much other… stuff…to…"

She'd caught sight Suoh's blue eyes moistening, making them sparkle. He flipped his bangs to the side and teardrops floated from his face to join the breeze of rose petals behind him. A tiny part of her wondered how he managed to make it all look slow-mo. He smiled sweetly at her and it was at this point Ryo realized his face was inches away from hers. All her body heat had rushed to her face before she remembered herself. She shoved him away.

"Do!" she finished determinedly. He looked hurt for a split second before finding his smile again. There was something in that action that resonated with her.

"You're right, Hisakawa-san," he replied graciously, bowing. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

It seemed they'd failed to secure the artist they wanted. He was upset, sure, but he wouldn't have wanted her to do anything she wasn't totally comfortable with. He and Kyoya would have to start the search again. Then he heard it.

"Fine."

He looked up. "Huh?"

"Fine," she mumbled before she even fully registered what she was doing. There was something about this guy, a charm that even he seemed not to know he had. It wasn't in the hair flip or the watery eyes. It ran deeper than that. A sort of serenity, a pureness of heart. She groaned inwardly at her own cheesiness, not sure if he'd succeeded in tricking her.

She sighed and turned to Ootori.

"When do I start?"

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading. Feel free to follow, favourite and review!**


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